nation, yellow green and red
by Coins Compressed
Summary: The trick to love is never losing sight of independence. / IceLiet, a dabble into the historical.


**nation, yellow green and red****  
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**2010.**

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There is no melody to memory; it comes to him in scattered notes when he wakes, warped rhythms and orchestra colours dissolving against the surroundings of his bedroom. He parts his mousy lashes to it, the shift of the past into the sunlight of today, and it's not crisp and sharp but _softer_, room illuminated by comfortable beige.

Well. Extravagance has hardly ever been of interest to him, after all, even in days of Commonwealth. He has seen ballrooms, been the centre of attention in contemporary finery, but not once did it come to him in a natural way, not like _this _does.

It takes him a moment to realise the knock he woke to is not a knock taking place in the present. It's another memory, blending against the smiling figure that had been looming over his bed as he tumbled from slumber. Lithuania knows he is alone, and it will be some hours yet until he has guests around him at the anniversary dinner, but he sees it just as clearly. Every year without fail, Iceland should be there, _grinning, _a precious rarity alone as it is – and Lithuania is happy to rise for him, arms reaching to cup Iceland's face, lips eager to press gratitude against pale cheeks.

This year, Iceland isn't here. Lithuania hums softly beneath his breath to conjure recollections, gathered over two decades and rising, ones he refuses to let simply flee from his retention.

He allows a smile to settle on his lips, lazily pushing back the bedcovers as he senses, with some degree of resignation, that it's going to be a cold day. Again. Business as usual, his people ever-present as the pulse inside him that he can firmly call his own.

Lithuania is not a nation of decadence. He is a nation of adversity, political warfare on a military battlefield, and it's a welcome relief to have a day in which he merely focuses on the most chaotic nature of love.

It's not just love he gathered years ago, of course. It's partly so, a love found in a Reykjavik symposium where he felt so, _so _small, offered assistance by one of the recognised when he'd barely said two words to Norway's brother before. It's love for Iceland as much as it's love for the Lithuanian state, his land, his own troubled self.

Independence day festivities have already begun. They register beneath his skin as a hazy buzz, not quite enough to make him scratch at himself with a somewhat irritated expression, but later he'll be positively itching, desperate to stand before his government and _laugh_.

Though he knows he's not without problems, not without biased adoration for a flawed population, he's very well aware that such humans are the lifeblood of every being that exists like he does. From Russia to Poland to even Belarus, they're all endless and eternal, so long as mortals require them. He'll be their guard-tower, an inhuman figure of warmth and adoration as a reward for their support of a community - their uniquely Baltic perseverance, and it's one rendered autonomous, no less.

Iceland understands the joy of it. He's the one who assisted in providing it.

It's just a shame that Iceland won't be here this year – he's seeing an expert about a volcano, a colourful excuse he gave by letter in _such_ a charming manner – but Lithuania knows he'll be able to cope without him. That's not to say he won't _miss _Iceland, as they are both creatures not of extravagance but of calm, fondness lain in watching progressing celebrations while they sit together elsewhere for murmured conversation.

A check of the stocked wardrobe confirms one thing: the attire Lithuania has to wear today is going to be dreadful. Perhaps not in style, but in discomfort, all tight ties and tighter suits, no doubt the result of his Prime Minister's wife shopping for him. He's going to keep up appearances for the sake of his people but he's not going to be too happy about it - and for that, Iceland's letter mocked him, concluded with a hand-drawn caricature of Lithuania himself in some garish flamboyant tuxedo.

Such is a dip into flippancy that Iceland doesn't particularly care to share, not often, but Lithuania's seen it enough. Brisk laughter emitted years ago accompanies Lithuania's reminiscence, and it's a harsh sound but it's _Iceland's. _Lithuania could never be too unnerved by anything about him in the least.

It's in their nature to be separate.

They are reserved, and they are devoted to their duties; they'd put their people ahead of each other because they know that's the best way for one of their kind to function. It's been quite some time since they last saw each other – and it seems like it'll be longer still, Lithuania notes with an amused shake of his head – but the time apart doesn't matter. The relief of being together again when they eventually _do _meet will more than make up for any frustration felt in the interim.

Lithuania begins removing his nightwear, unfastening his buttons a tad too hastily because he'd rather be anywhere else but this bedroom. If he lingers here too long, all he'll be able to do is dwell, be it on the past or be it on the warm blankets tempting him back to sleeping. Perhaps he'll never get used to the Vilnius cold.

Wherever Iceland is, pacing the snowy grounds of his own territory, he'll undoubtedly be feeling colder. Lithuania smiles to himself, deciding to wear the scarf he was given twenty years ago, embroidered with about half a puffin because that's all Iceland felt he was able to bestow.

Another arbitrary recollection. Lithuania has more memories to make today.

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**x-x**

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**Notes: **Written to bother some RP associates. c: Historically: Iceland was the first country to recognise Lithuania's independence; Iceland also offered to serve as negotiation ground between Soviet representatives, and Lithuanian ones. In 2010, Iceland supported Lithuania's 20th independence anniversary celebrations, which was also around the time the Eyjafjsllsjokull volcano, responsible for grounding many flights, erupted.


End file.
